Lessons and Games
by Baron Munchausen
Summary: "Satire is a lesson, parody is a game." ― Vladimir Nabokov. I wanted to do a series of one-shots, but queenlovett, mysweetone, and MistressSara have really cornered the market in wonderful stories like that: I simply couldn't compete. Here instead are a series of pastiches in various styles all surrounding Anthony and Edith. I hope you enjoy them.
1. Raymond Chandler-Hello, My Lovely

_1. Raymond Chandler_

* * *

It was one of those wet London evenings, the sort for which hot tea and toast had to be invented to let the English survive in this filthy climate. Any more water around and I might have believed they had dropped me off the ship mid-Atlantic. I didn't want to be here, but a job's a job and even a British pound is cold, hard cash. I wore a borrowed suit which itched, and a gun for which my fingers itched more. I didn't trust these stuffed shirts with titles, and the punk who had hired me was more stuffed than a turkey at Thanksgiving, with an accent to match. Yep, Sir Anthony Strallan was trouble alright, but trouble was my business, my stock in trade, my bread and butter, and, more to the point, my slug of bourbon.

The butler looked down his nose at the puddle I'd made from the English rain, as though I'd done it on purpose. Then he looked back up at me.

"May I take your coat, sir?"

"Thanks. Try coming to LA someday, Bub: they pay good money for water there. You'd make a fortune."

Longnose raised an eyebrow, and showed me into the library. Boy, do they read a lot in England! I guess it's the only thing to do to pass the time until the next cricket match.

Sir Tall Blonde Teddy Bear turned to me.

"Ah, Mr Marlowe. Good to see you. Thank you for coming, especially on such a nasty night. Would you care for a cup of something?"

"I'd be happier with a _glass_ of something."

I'll give it to His Fuzziness, it took no more than a split second for him to catch my drift and nod to Longnose to give me a tumbler of Scotch. A complex language of eyebrow-waggling also instructed him that the measure should be a triple. I began to like this Sir Bear.

"So, who's the dame?"

"I do beg your pardon?"

"In these sorts of cases a woman is always involved...at least in my experience."

"Have you had much experience in...these sorts of cases, Mr Marlowe?"

"Let's just say I ain't yet met the dame who wasn't trouble, or the one who was remotely worth it."

"Oh, Lady Edith _is_ worth it" he sighed, staring into his own glass.

This broad had broken his heart, that much was obvious to a blind man in sunglasses. He'd got it bad, worse than I'd ever seen. When I left, an hour and half a bottle of Scotch later, I had my assignment: find this Edith lady, or Lady Edith, check out that she was happy, and use a fine-toothed comb on the background of her new beau, some character called Gregson, just to make sure the male of the species wasn't going to go ruining her life a second time.

Finding out about him was a breeze. Even finding her was not difficult, even in a place as lousy with toffs as London. The offices of _The Sketch_ were a bit more respectable than I expected. There again, I'm used to newspapers in the States: grimy, grubby, and gruesome. I asked for Lady Edith and was pointed in the direction of a small, glass-panelled office. I stuck my nose in through the door where it probably wasn't wanted. It's what I do best.

"Lady Edith Crawley?"

She looked up, smiled pleasantly, pausing in her writing.

"Yes, what can I do for you?"

"Everything, angel" I answered.

Now, I know blondes: blondes so stupid they forget what name they're going by this evening; blondes with breasts so big they don't need to have a name to get what they want; and blondes so deadly you don't want to know where they hide their Derringer .41. Lady Edith was…everything Sir Anthony had said she was. No wonder he was so cut up.

She was looking at me with polite confusion, and I realised with a shock that it was genuine. The pass I'd just made at her had missed by a mile. How these Brits ever got around to procreating was the mystery to me. I sure would lose my fee on that case.

"Sorry?"

"May I come in, I'm a private detective."

"Oh. Oh yes. Please take a seat. You're American, is that right?"

"Sure. It's the shoes that give it away, huh?"

She laughed a shy, tinkling laugh. She was ridiculously charming, and plainly utterly innocent. I may not be a Valentino, but I think I know a girl what has from a girl what hasn't. Lady Edith had all blossoms intact. That answered one of Sir Teddy Bear's questions.

"Actually, my mother is American. I've always wanted to go."

"Oh, you should, you should. You'd be a big hit."

"Really? Do you really think so, Mr…?"

"Marlowe, Philip Marlowe."

"So, what's your case, Mr Marlowe?"

That put me on the spot. Boy, was this girl good, she'd lured me in and slammed down the trap. But I haven't survived twenty years on the streets as a gumshoe without a few aces up my sleeve.

"Actually, it's a bit underhand, and…well, I ain't all that happy with it. But it's a serious issue. I've been asked to investigate _The Sketch_, well, more to the point, certain people who work here. Some ex-employees, some _lady_ ex-employees, have approached a rival newspaper making accusations, and I've been brought in to see if there is any truth in them. They couldn't give the story to any of their regular hacks; they might be colluding. If this makes you at all uncomfortable, I will leave now and you can forget all about it."

The appeal to her sense of honour worked. These nobles are so…well, noble: it was like stealing worms from blind hens.

"No. Tell me, what is the nature of these accusations?" she said straight-up.

"That the editor, Mr Gregson, makes improper sexual advances towards female members of staff, with no honourable intentions."

She went quite white, and I learned something about the British stiff upper lip. It isn't that they _don't_ feel anything. They do. They just refuse to show how much it hurts. She seemed to analyse her options and decided on one.

"And you want to know if this has happened to me?"

"Only if you want to tell me."

"Well, Mr Marlowe, let me tell you this: what your informants tell you is true, and Mich…Mr Gregson has it down to such a fine art that I didn't really realise what he was doing until you came into my office just now. If what you are doing will prevent some other trusting young lady falling into his clutches then please ask me any questions you wish: I will answer them."

She had guts alright. But it was a struggle for her. There was a better way to do this, and she was playing right into my hands.

"Lady Edith, I fear I have put you in a difficult position. You didn't know that this had happened before?"

"No." Her angel's eyes were so wet with tears I could swear I saw rainbows.

"Would it be better if we left this for now? Or perhaps you'd like to leave the office? Let me buy you a drink; I think you could use one."

"Thank you, Mr Marlowe, that's very thoughtful."

She tidied her papers away in a drawer and locked it, then picked up her bag and coat. We left the building and I walked her over to The Café Royal. Once she was sat down at an alcove table, and I'd ordered a brandy and soda for us both, she began to sing like a canary.

"He's married, you know, Mr Marlowe. But his wife is committed to an asylum. At least, that's what he told me. I suppose those might be lies as well. I can't trust anything he says, can I?"

She turned from me and sobbed. I felt like a heel, but I consoled myself with the thought that _I_ wasn't the married man taking advantage of a damsel in distress.

"I'll give you a little privacy, Lady Edith. I just want to visit the cloakroom, and I'll be back."

I heard a muffled 'thank you' from behind a handkerchief as I scuttled out of the alcove over to where I'd told Sir Teddy Bear to wait.

"What have you told her? Is she alright?"

"I ain't told her nothing, Boss. I just asked questions and she gave herself the answers. Now get over there and comfort her if you are man enough!"

I hadn't seen a man unfold himself and draw himself up to his full height with such breeding before. He looked down at me like the worm I am. It might even have been impressive if I hadn't been the object of that steely blue stare.

"I am not a 'man', Mr Marlowe. I am a gentleman."

The badass baronet of Locksley walked over to the other side of the room as casual as you please, stopping only when he heard a woman weeping. He looked in asking something politely, stopped talking as though someone had swung a baseball bat at him, and then disappeared into the alcove. I couldn't have given a better performance myself.

I knew everything would be okay now, and that included receiving my fee.


	2. Will Shakespeare-Much Ado About Andith

_2.__ William Shakespeare_

* * *

_Sort of based on__ Much Ado About Nothing __where Claudio jilts Hero at the altar._

* * *

Scene i.

**EDITH (whisper)**

Good afternoon.

**SIR ANTHONY (whisper)**

Good afternoon, my sweet one.

**SIR ANTHONY**

In troth, I cannot do this.

**ROBERT (sharp whisper)**

What?

**SIR ANTHONY**

I cannot so condemn my sweetest love.

You know within your breast that this is wrong;

You yourself hath many times cried shame

Upon this marriage.

**ROBERT**

My dear chap.

**SIR ANTHONY**

No. Love tied my hands when action should have been

My heart's captain. Oft times I called halt

But my resolve drown'd in Edith's eyes.

**EDITH**

What words are these? My ears hear, but my heart

Is deaf and slow of wit.

**SIR ANTHONY**

Edith! Edith, I will not let you waste

Your life on me.

**EDITH**

But smiling happiness sends warm breezes to bless

Our union!

[Edith takes Strallan's hand.]

**SIR ANTHONY**

Joy will be yours, not mine. My wealth of love

For thee, alas, far outweighs the merit

I possess to deserve such a jewel as you.

[Edith looks into Strallan's eyes, mortified.]

**ROBERT**

Anthony, it is too late for this.

**REVD TRAVIS**

A little distance might assist perchance?

[Violet steps forward to Edith.]

**VIOLET**

No. Let him go, for right is on his side.

This is the only sensible action

He's proposed for many a day.

**SIR ANTHONY**

I thank you, Lady Grantham.

**EDITH**

But...Granny...

**VIOLET**

No, no. It's done, my dear. A limb cut off

Is least painful hewn quickly. Wish him well

And let him go.

**EDITH**

I cannot. My heart breaks.

**SIR ANTHONY**

Goodbye, my dearest darling. And may God

Bless you always.

[Strallan walks back up the aisle and Edith turns to him, but Violet holds her back. Edith swoons. Tom runs after Strallan. The congregation disperses in chaos. Matthew, Mary, Edith, Robert, and Travis are left alone in the church.]

**MATTHEW**

How doth the lady?

**MARY**

Dead, I think. Help, Papa!

**REVD TRAVIS**

Have comfort, lady.

**MARY**

O, on my soul, my sister is betrayed!

[Edith stirs. Mary comforts her.]

**REVD TRAVIS**

Pause awhile,

And let my counsel sway you in this case.

Your daughter here the baronet left for dead:

Let her awhile be secretly kept in,

And publish it that she is dead indeed.

**ROBERT**

What shall become of this? What will this do?

**REVD TRAVIS**

Marry, this well carried shall on her behalf

Change slander to remorse; that is some good:

She dying, as it must so be maintain'd,

Upon the instant that she was abused,

Shall be lamented, pitied and valued

More than she was. So will it fare with Anthony:

When he shall hear she died upon his words,

The idea of her life shall sweetly creep

Into his study of imagination; then shall he mourn,

If ever love had interest in his liver,

And wish he had not so abused her:

And if it sort not well, you may conceal her,

As best befits her wounded reputation,

Out of all eyes, tongues, minds and injuries.

**ROBERT**

Being that I flow in grief,

The smallest twine may lead me.

**REVD TRAVIS**

Come, lady, die to live: this wedding-day

Perhaps is but prolong'd: have patience and endure.

[Exeunt all but Matthew and Mary.]

**MATTHEW**

Lady, weep you?

**MARY**

Yea, and I will weep a while longer.

**MATTHEW**

I will not desire that.

Surely I do believe your fair sister is wronged.

**MARY**

Ah, how much might the man deserve of me that would right her!

**MATTHEW**

I do love nothing in the world so well as you.

Come, bid me do any thing for thee.

**MARY**

Kill Anthony.

**MATTHEW**

Is Anthony thine enemy?

**MARY**

Is he not approved in the height a villain, that

Hath scorned, dishonoured my kinswoman? O

That I were a man! What, bear her in hand until they

Come to take hands; and then, with public

Abandonment, uncovered cowardice, unmitigated disrespect-

O God, that I were a man! I would eat his heart

In the market-place.

**MATTHEW**

Tarry, good Mary. By this hand, I love thee.

**MARY**

Use it for my love some other way than swearing by it.

**MATTHEW**

Enough, I am engaged; I will challenge him. I will

kiss your hand, and so I leave you. Go, comfort your

Sister: I must say she is dead: and so, farewell.

* * *

Scene ii.

**MATTHEW**

Shall I speak a word in your ear?

**SIR ANTHONY**

God bless me: a challenge!

**MATTHEW**

You are a villain; do me right, or I will

Protest your cowardice. You have killed a sweet

Lady, and her death shall fall heavy on you.

**SIR ANTHONY**

I will meet you, my death will bring good cheer

To all, myself as much as any.

[Enter Robert .]

**SIR ANTHONY**

Is't true? Sweet Edith dead, and by my hand?

**ROBERT**

Alas, too true.

**SIR ANTHONY**

I know not how to pray your patience;

Yet I must speak. Choose your revenge yourself;

Impose me to what penance your invention

Can lay upon my sin: yet sinn'd I not

Except in loving far too well

And being far too old and war-wearied.

**ROBERT**

I cannot bid you bid my daughter live;

To-morrow morning come you to my house,

And since you could not be my son-in-law,

Be yet my nephew: my sister hath a daughter,

Almost the copy of my child that's dead,

Give her the right you should have given her cousin,

And so dies my revenge.

**SIR ANTHONY**

O noble sir,

Your over-kindness doth wring tears from me!

I do embrace your offer; and dispose

For henceforth of poor Anthony.

[Exeunt, severally]

* * *

Scene iii.

**REVD TRAVIS**

Did I not tell you this would work?

**ROBERT**

Something they teach you at seminary?

**MATTHEW**

Well, I am glad that all things sort so well.

Being else by love and promise bound

To call Sir Anthony to a reckoning for it.

**ROBERT**

Well, daughters, withdraw into a chamber

By yourselves, and when I send for you, come

Hither mask'd.

[Exeunt Ladies.]

[Enter Sir Anthony.]

**ROBERT**

Good morrow, Sir Anthony. We here attend you.

Are you determined to marry with my sister's daughter?

**SIR ANTHONY**

I'll hold my mind, but love her I cannot

My heart being buried with fair Edith.

[Re-enter the Ladies masked.]

**SIR ANTHONY**

Which is the lady I must seize upon?

**ROBERT**

This same is she, and I do give you her.

**SIR ANTHONY**

Then she's mine. Sweet one, let me see your face.

**ROBERT**

No, that you shall not, till you take her hand

Before this priest and swear to marry her.

**SIR ANTHONY**

Give me your hand: before this holy clerk,

I am your husband, if you like of me.

**EDITH**

And when I lived, I was your other wife:

[Unmasking.]

And when you loved, you were my other husband.

**SIR ANTHONY**

Edith!

**EDITH**

Nothing certainer:

One Edith died defamed, but I do live,

And surely as I live, I am yours, and yours alone.

**ROBERT**

She died, but while you would not have her love.

**SIR ANTHONY**

Sweet Edith, forgive my foolish doubts and

Be my wife, and I will live my life to

Prove my love.

**EDITH**

To wear thy ring, to bear thy name, no more

I ask. Tho' yet perhaps to bear thy sons

And daughters and to seal the bargain with

A kiss.

[They kiss passionately. Dance.]


	3. Bram Stoker-Count Strallan

_3. Bram Stoker_

* * *

Admittedly, this is straying slightly from Stoker's storyline, but none of us would want Anthony to end up like that. I have tried to stick to the style of the original work: told through diary entries and letters, and wonderfully Victorian High Gothic.

So this is set in 1912. The _Titanic_ has sunk and Matthew Crawley, a solicitor from Manchester, is the new heir to the title of Earl of Grantham. He visits Downton and meets the Crawley sisters. Although in love with Mary, he becomes engaged to Edith because Mary, in a fit of pique, turns him down. He insists on concluding his ongoing cases which include one involving a mysterious Count Strallan from Whitby who wants to purchase a property not far from Downton called Locksley…

* * *

**Lady Edith Crawley's Journal**

23rd June 1912  
Matthew continues to flirt with Mary, and she with him. I am fond of Matthew, and although I am not in love with him, as I understand that emotion, it still hurts. Tomorrow Matthew says he is going to take a client from Whitby around to an estate just east of here. I have insisted that I go with him. The change will be welcome, and I may have the opportunity of talking to him. It would be best for everyone if he and Mary could come to an amicable agreement and release me from being a pawn in their games.

* * *

24th June 1912  
I don't know what to say. I cannot but smile, but I feel always on the edge of tears. Count Strallan is…the most devastatingly handsome man I have ever met. And the kindest and most polite and gentlemanly. But there is a sweet dangerousness to him as well. When I am with him I feel that he is looking at me as though he is a predator and I am his prey. I will admit it: he excites me more than any man ever has, including Matthew.

Matthew and I arrived at the house, Locksley Grange, a beautiful Queen Anne manor, some quarter of an hour earlier than arranged, but the Count was there before us. His carriage is totally enclosed with no windows, which I considered strange but Matthew explained that the Count sadly suffers from an allergic reaction to sunlight and must take steps to protect his skin from it or be left with the most horrific burns. Matthew opened up the front door and left it wide open. The coachman jumped down and knocked on the carriage door. Without delay a very tall figure alighted. He was dressed in a dark coat of strikingly formal cut and under his top hat his head and shoulders were covered with a black silk veil, such as undertakers sometimes wear. He entered the house at surprising speed, shut the door behind him and swept off his hat and veil with one graceful movement. Instantly I was mesmerised by his eyes, the colour of the bluest South Sea. Matthew greeted him, but the Count stepped towards me ignoring my fiancé until he introduced us.

"Count Strallan, I would like you to meet my fiancée, Lady Edith Crawley."

"At last. Lady Edith, it is all my pleasure."

"Count, have we…"

"…met before? I am sure of it, my lady."

He uttered the words with intensity and a barely-controlled passion, thrilling me to my core.

Matthew showed him around the house, but the Count appeared to have made up his mind to buy the property the moment he set eyes upon me. A date for completion was set, and the Count took his leave of us, kissing my hand with such ardour that I was near fainting.

* * *

8th July 1912  
Count Strallan invited all the county to Locksley for drinks this evening. Sybil, Mama and I were very excited; Papa, Granny, Mary and Matthew less so. We arrived just after dusk, as instructed. The wine that was served was magnificent and of a blend and vintage none could guess at. We met many of the local families but saw nothing of our host for more than an hour. Papa was growing ever more angry when at last I saw the tall figure of the Count approach us. He spoke to Mama, Mary, Matthew, and Sybil very graciously and told Papa what a wonderful house Downton was, placating them and captivating them all completely. He was especially gallant towards Granny, almost flirting with her. I have never seen Granny blush like that before. Then he turned to me.

"Lady Edith, I have something in my library which I think will be of especial interest to you. Do excuse us." He led me into the quiet of a sumptuous book-lined room.

"This room is gorgeous, Count Strallan!" I exclaimed without thinking.

"Do you like it? Do you really? I am so pleased." He smiled gently and, I thought, a little sadly at me.

A string quartet began to play out in the hall, causing the soirée to take on a particularly elegant feel. Unfortunately it startled the Count's dogs in their kennels and they began to howl.

"Listen to them, the children of the night. What music they make!" he breathed, his eyes closed.

"I love dogs" I blurted.

He opened his eyes once more and held mine with a look that saw into my very soul. I was sure that he was about to kiss me, when the door was thrown open and Matthew announced that we were returning to Downton. In the carriage, I discovered that Mary and he had quarrelled and an exit with me was intended to snub my sister. Having found the love of my life, I felt sorry for her, and ashamed of my wanton behaviour with Count Strallan while I was still engaged to Matthew. I took the opportunity of his emotional upset to inform him that I was breaking off our engagement, and urging him to settle with Mary, something that appeared to have been his intention all along.

* * *

10th July 1912  
He came to me last night. I was abed and almost asleep, and thoughts of his voice and his eyes and my desires were throbbing through my head. The candles flickered, there was a sudden breeze from I know not where, and Count Strallan stood in front of my bed. Strangely I was not afraid.

"I apologise for this intrusion, but I need to know" he implored.

"What?" I answered, sitting up.

"You are truly lovely to me, and I believe we have met in another life. Do you believe this to be true?"

"Yes" I whispered, "my soul is wedded to yours, I feel it, and long to make it so once more."

He seemed to struggle for breath for a moment, then suddenly I was in his arms and his kiss was fierce on my mouth.

"Do you truly wish to be one with me, be like me, be with me forever?" he pleaded.

"Yes." The word escaped me like the last breath after death. He kissed my neck, and then I felt his bite, and he sucked my blood as I writhed in ecstasy. He scratched his own body just above the collar bone, bleeding himself for me and offered me the wound. Instinctively I knew to drink his life-giving essence, as he too succumbed to the heights of love.

"And you, my best beloved one, are now to me, flesh of my flesh, blood of my blood, kin of my kin, my bountiful wife, my companion, and my love."

Upon the instant, Matthew and Papa, having heard voices broke into my bedroom. Appalled they were at the sight of so much blood, and their inaction gave Anthony and I a few precious seconds to turn to incorporeal mist and make our escape through the window. We returned to Locksley, materialising in Anthony's bedchamber.

"Are you alright?" he enquired, with carefullest concern.

"Never better, my love" I stated, quite truthfully.

"Then, more than anything in this world or the next, I want to consummate the union we have just solemnised".

His loving eyes bore into me, and I answered by taking him in my arms.

* * *

14th September 1912

My life with Anthony is perfectly complete. At dusk we wake and we leave the house to dine – chicken, pork, beef, lamb – whatever we fancy and is available. We never kill or distress the animals – we want no trouble with the other farmers, but furthermore, there is no need. Most times we can supply our needs from our own stock.

Our appetites fulfilled, we return home. We read and talk; if it is still dark we stroll among the orchards.

Then we make love, sometimes feeding upon each other.

We bother no one, and no one bothers us.

We will be happy and in love until the end of time.


	4. Kenneth Grahame-Wind In Downton Willows

_4. __Kenneth Grahame_

* * *

_This crack fic started out as a comment on Tumblr about a Least Weasel (a lovely picture of a real one), that turned into a joke about the fact that Robert Bathurst played St John Weasel in the 1996 film of _The Wind in the Willows_, and, well, it went on from there. This is just an utter travesty, _The Wind in Downton's Willows_, if you will, and I've just used Grahame's characters and Fellowes', and some of it is OOC for both. But it was fun to write and I hope you find it fun to read._

* * *

_._

Anthony St John Weasel had always felt like a Least Weasel. Certainly compared to the other weasels. They were quick as lightning and he was more careful, more deliberate. They were cruel to the rabbits and other riverbank folk, whereas he secretly felt sorry for them, and let them go if none of the other weasels were looking. He'd been pulled up before the Chief Weasel for such behaviour on more than one occasion. The thing was that he didn't _feel_ like a weasel, and he certainly didn't feel he deserved to be part of that gang of weasels who proudly marched around the Wild Wood as though they owned the place. No; he preferred to sit quietly, sipping tea in his quiet way, reading some of the books that lined his nice little den, gently passing his days in a lonely, rather melancholy way.

That was until _she_ came, the fine young lady weasel with curly copper-coloured fur. Anthony had been out collecting the nuts and berries that he preferred as his diet rather than having to kill poor, sweet little bunnies, when he first saw her. She was walking through the Wild Wood not in fear as most animals might, and not arrogantly like his colleagues did. She was…_interested_ in the wood and its sights and smells, and she was obviously enjoying her walk and appreciating the wood's beauty. She was so brave, and so unusual, and so beautiful. He followed her, keeping hidden himself. He told himself it was to ensure her safety. A weasel not from the Wood might be set upon by the local weasels, or even by foxes. But the truth was that he wanted to watch her for as long as he could. She was so lovely.

In time, she found her way back out of the Wild Wood and walked up the drive to Toad Hall, but not before she turned towards the shrubs behind which he was taking cover, and _smiled_. Anthony melted. He wondered who she was, but he didn't dare follow her any further than the trees surrounding the estate. Wild Wooders didn't go into the village or the area around Toad Hall, any more than riverbank animals strayed into the woods. It just wasn't done.

The next day he went out again, just in case the lovely weasel with the coppery fur decided to go for another walk. Although he waited all day watching the Hall and the driveway, she didn't appear. He returned home sad and down-heartened. The day after that was the same.

"You will just have to accept that you won't see her again, you old foolish weasel" he muttered to himself, realising that the thought made his heart ache and the lonely years stretching ahead of him that much colder.

* * *

_._

The Chief Weasel had had another idea. He was always having these overblown and rather impractical ideas to make the weasels (i.e. himself) rich, and this one sounded particularly distressing to Anthony St John Weasel. The idea was to invade Toad Hall when Lord Toad went out in his new motor car, and they would claim the Hall and all its food and wine for themselves. They would eat Toad's grub and drink his drink and it would be a wonderful feast, and there would be nothing that Lord Toad could do about it.

"Erm…what about Toad's family…and his servants?" Anthony asked. The other weasels laughed heartily. Toad had been lucky enough to marry a beautiful creature, Cora by name, an American Ermine, and it was well known that he had three daughters. When the laughter died down, the Chief Weasel answered.

"Well, if Anthony St John hasn't shown his lily-liver again!" There was more laughter.

"No…no…I merely want to know what you want us to do with them, when we find them" he stuttered, trying to sound fierce.

"We will enslave the servants and make them bring us all the finest wines and delicacies…and…I'm sure we can think of something to do with Toad's ladies!" There was much lecherous jeering as Anthony went quite pale. This was awful. That gorgeous young weasel lived at Toad Hall, although he had no idea if she were family or staff. There was only one thing for it: when the weasels went to attack the Hall, he had to make sure that he was the first one to find her and help her to safety. He had to, his feelings allowed him no other course of action. But if he failed and something horrible happened to her, he knew he would never forgive himself.

* * *

_._

Lord Robert Toad took a seat at the back of his shiny, new motor car. Branson, his Irish Pine Marten chauffeur closed the door and hastened to the driver's seat.

"What a lovely day for a drive! This will be the best fun I've had in years. Off we go, Branson. Poop, poop!"

With that, they roared off down the drive of Toad Hall sending up a plume of dust. Behind the choking cloud, on the edge of the wood, the Chief Weasel and his gang watched and waited. The Chief gave a signal when all was clear and the weasels ran towards the Hall, each and every one armed with cutlasses, swords, pistols, and cudgels. The Chief Weasel marched fearlessly up to the front door and rang the bell. Very soon it was answered by a venerable old Badger.

"Yes, _Sir_?" he asked unperturbed by the hordes of weasels on the front drive.

"Is Lord Toad at home?" whined the Chief.

"I regret he has just left for the day. Can I help, _Sir_?"

"Who are you? What do you do here?"

"I am Carson the butler, _Sir_."

"Well, Carson the butler" the Chief continued "you can step aside while I claim Toad Hall for my own."

Carson laughed a small disparaging laugh, which quickly turned to terror when the entire gang charged him. There were weasels everywhere before he could turn around and cry for help. There were weasels swinging from the chandeliers, and running into the dining room and down to the kitchens. The Chief wanted everyone to head for where the food might be kept, so it was easy enough for Anthony to hang back, hiding behind a large suit of armour until the first attack had passed and he could run up the stairs unseen. He had checked three rooms and found no one and was beginning to despair of his plan when in the fourth he found four lovely ladies huddling together in fear: Toad's wife and his daughters. Mary, the eldest was a beautiful and haughty Mink. Sybil, the youngest, was a charming and sweet-natured Polecat. In the middle was the lovely lady weasel he had seen in the Wild Wood, her eyes wide in shock. All four recoiled away from him as he entered the room.

"Ladies, please don't be frightened. I'm here to rescue you" Anthony said in as steady a voice as he could muster.

"I don't believe him, Mama" said Mary.

"Why should we trust you?" said the Ermine.

"Put it this way: either I'm lying and I'm just going to take you to my Chief to let him have his wicked way with you, which I assure you is what will happen if any of my former colleagues finds you, or you trust me to lead you to safety. I implore you to do the latter, my lady, and quickly!"

Edith stood up then and her eyes not leaving Anthony's she said "I believe he is telling the truth, Mama, though as he says, we have little choice!"

"Thank you, my lady" Anthony gave a little bow to her, overwhelmed by her courage. He went to the door and checked outside, then led them away down the hall to the staircase. They turned a corner and were surprised by two particularly nasty weasels by the names of Larry and Michael.

" 'Ere, those are the girls! What are you doing with 'em, Anthony?"

"You heard what the Chief said. He wants them for himself. Now get out of my way!" Anthony cussed as viciously as he could, as he pushed the girls ahead of him. Larry and Michael looked at each other and scurried away to the kitchens as fast as their little legs would carry them.

Anthony, Cora, and her daughters made it down the stairs, and out of the front door before a stentorian voice from behind stopped them.

"Anthony! What do you think you're doing?"

They turned to see the Chief Weasel with his hands on his hips glaring at them, with Michael and Larry smirking on either side of him.

Anthony was terrified. The Chief had made his life a misery for years, but somewhere deep inside, all the resentment, and the injustice, and everything he hated about being a weasel burst forth.

"These ladies have done nothing to you, nothing! They don't deserve any mistreatment. Eat Toad's food and drink his wine, by all means. That's just petty burglary. But you will not harm a hair of these ladies' fur. Not while I live!"

The Chief just stared. Then he began to laugh, and the others followed suit.

"Well, then, I suppose you will have to die! Kill him!"

Edith whimpered as several weasels made for Anthony until he drew his pistol. His attackers halted because, in their haste to get to Toad's food, they had put their weapons down somewhere and were unarmed.

"You can't leave this to your cronies, Chief. It's just me and you, like gentlemen. _If you have the guts!_"

Anthony knew that the Chief would not be able to pass up such a goading. He grabbed a pistol from another weasel and marched down to the driveway.

"Eight paces, turn, and fire. Larry, you count" ordered the Chief, taking up his position behind Anthony's back. Larry began to count and Anthony and the Chief paced away from each other, holding their pistols before them. Edith was terrified, frozen to the spot, lost in her admiration for this brave and handsome weasel who would risk his life for her and her family.

"…six, seven, eight!" Larry intoned.

Anthony knew he would most likely die. The Chief was a crack shot; that was how he had become Chief Weasel in the first place. It was a position one acquired by murdering the previous incumbent. Strangely, the knowledge of impending death gave him a serenity, a confidence, that he had never felt before. He was finally doing something that he truly believed in. Because of this, when he heard "eight!" he didn't hesitate. He spun around and fired at the Chief's head, and waited for the fatal shot. It didn't come. When he looked down, the Chief was lying prone and still.

There was a long moment of silence and then a cheer from the weasels. There were calls of "Anthony!" and "the new Chief!". The gang picked Anthony up and carried him around until he insisted that they put him down, that he wanted to speak to them.

"Now, look here, if I am your new Chief" there was more cheering "I have these orders for you. First, you will go back inside Toad Hall, you will pick up all of your weapons, you will clear up any mess you have made, and you will apologise to all Toad's servants for any inconvenience you have caused. Second, you will all _go home!_ From now on, we will all live like civilized animals. We will earn our own keep. We will not belong to a gang except to support the Weasel football team or to have a party. We will not live by crime, and we will not terrorize the riverbank folk. _IS THAT UNDERSTOOD?_"

There was another stunned silence, followed by "yes Chief" and a lot of muttered "sorry Chief", and then the weasels all went indoors.

Anthony turned to the four ladies, and bowed.

"I apologise for our intrusion into your home, my ladies."

Then he turned as if to walk back to the Wild Wood, but he was stopped by a gentle voice.

"Anthony?" Edith called. He turned to look at her. Her face was glowing with joy and…love? She ran to him throwing her paws around him and hugging him. Then she kissed him on the cheek. Anthony looked at her with his mouth open in bewilderment, giving her a lopsided smile.

"Thank you. Thank you for saving us and our home."

"You're welcome, my lady" he managed.

"I do hope we'll see more of you. Wouldn't you like that?" she asked shyly.

"Oh, I should like that very much. Much more than I probably ought to, bearing in mind that I'm just a Least Weasel and you are a lady."

"I think you are very much more than a Least Weasel, Sir Anthony" she said, kissing him again. And this time, he kissed her back.


	5. Ian Fleming-Casino Charlotte Royale

**_5. _**_**Ian Fleming - **__Casino Charlotte Royale_  


_**An Apple Charlotte is made with cake soaked in a spirit like Kirsch lining a bowl then filled with fruit and cream. A Charlotte Royale is the same but using Swiss Roll slices instead of plain cake. All the cocktails mentioned in this story are real cocktails too.**_

_**.**_

_**I haven't tried to emulate Fleming's own style of writing, for two reasons:**_

_**1. I find it bland. The real interest in the 007 books is in the characters, plot, and dialogue, which I hope I have preserved.**_

_**2. Fleming's own style has been overtaken by that of the films.**_

_**You may be interested to compare this effort of mine with **_**The Spy Who Loved Me **_**in MistressSara's **_**Lovely Moments**_** series.**_

_**.**_

_**So, in this story Sir Anthony Strallan is an unremarkable, mild, middle-aged man, with impeccable manners, and wears tweed suits. Except that he is also a government agent for MI6.**_

_**Yes, Anthony Strallan **_**IS**_** 005.**_

* * *

.

The door to the office flew open; a thrown hat followed quickly but it never reached its target of the hat stand in the corner of Moneypenny's office.

"And for my next trick…" James Bond's voice trailed off as he took in the scene. Moneypenny was trying to keep a straight face and 005 was holding the hat apologetically. He'd caught it instinctively with lightning reflexes.

"Sorry, 007" he said, returning the hat to him. "I didn't mean to spoil your show."

"I'm impressed you've still got it, 005." Moneypenny saw that the low blow hurt the older man: he straightened his back and drew himself up to his full height…a good inch or two taller than Bond.

"Moneypenny, my lovely girl, M wants to see me." Bond breezed past into the main office not heeding Moneypenny's objections.

"But Anthony was here first…!"

"Don't worry, Miss Moneypenny, I'm in no rush."

"You're too gentlemanly and forgiving for your own good, Anthony."

"Nonsense. And anyway, it gives me a chance to catch up with your news."

"Oh Anthony! You know, James flirts with me…sometimes…the other agents order me around and treat me as though I'm nothing more than a secretary…or a pair of legs. But you…you really listen to me. You treat me like a person."

"Because you _are_ a person, Miss Moneypenny, and a wonderful one at that" Anthony smiled.

"I am _so_ going to miss you." She realised what she had said and panic swept over her face.

"What do you mean?" Anthony's eyes were suddenly sharp. But Moneypenny was saved from her embarrassment by Bond walking purposefully from M's office, bidding them both farewell without looking at them and leaving. M buzzed to send 005 in and Anthony went through, totally composed once more.

"Good afternoon, M."

"Afternoon, Strallan." M looked up from her paperwork and her face softened.

"You, Anthony, are a breath of fresh air after _him_."

"007? I thought he was your favourite?" Anthony replied mildly.

"Bond has his good points, but he's arrogant, impulsive, and has a severe problem with authority. He thinks he's a modern man and that you are a dinosaur with pre-War manners and a positively Victorian code of honour."

"Does he? Is that so?" Anthony let slip a touch of disdain in his voice.

M continued. "But yet when _you_ come in here you greet me politely and wait for my instructions in a respectful and businesslike manner with no silly small talk, or trying to get a rise out of me."

"You are my superior officer, ma'am."

Anthony felt that M's monologue was really more about her frustrations with 007 than her approval of himself. He felt it best, after that comment, to continue being respectfully silent.

"And another thing…Bond wears those sharp, flashy Savile Row suits. They are intended to be noticed. Your suits may look less impressive from a distance and easily overlooked but to anyone who bothers to take notice they are much better made."

"Thank you, ma'am. I prefer Jermyn Street: not so fashionable perhaps but much better quality in the workmanship and the fabric…and distinctly old-style, much like me…which neatly leads me on to my next question. I assume from all this discussion that I am about to be handed my final mission. Is that correct?

M looked pained.

"You always were the most intelligent of my agents, Anthony. I didn't want this, but the Minister…"

"I take no offense, ma'am, and I appreciate your support, both now and throughout our time together here."

"Look, when you get back from this one, Anthony, we'll discuss options. There are a couple of meaty intelligence interpretation posts going at GCHQ that are yours for the asking."

"Behind a desk, in…Cheltenham." Anthony made it sound like an inner circle of Hell. He dismissed the whole subject to concentrate on the mission in hand: his _last_ mission.

"What's the operation, ma'am?"

"We've uncovered a terrorist cartel calling themselves The Rainbow Vengeance: seven crime bosses across the globe, each with a codename of a colour, trying to make themselves more important by joining together. They've planned co-ordinated atrocities in a week's time: bombs which are intended to detonate at the same moment in New York, Rio, Delhi, Beijing, Berlin, Tokyo, and London. I've allocated an agent to each one. You have Mr Green here in London. The aim is simple: stop the attack and contain Green and his activities by any means necessary."

Anthony nodded. "Out of interest, who did Bond get?"

"Mr Red in Beijing." Anthony and M shared a guiltily mischievous smile at the thought of the long haul flight and jet lag that 007 would have to battle as well as the local War Lord.

M handed Anthony a dossier, pointing at a photograph at the front.

"This is Mr Green. He's staying at The Langham Hotel in their penthouse suite, although we know he must have another base of operations, we just don't know where. Do you know The Langham, 005?"

"Oh yes; they do the best desserts in London."

M laughed fondly.

"Oh my dear Anthony! You are easily my favourite agent. 003 has his passion for single malts, Bond has an incurable taste for vodka martinis, fast cars, and even faster women. But _you_! What's your vice? Apple Charlotte!"

Anthony pointed to a woman with Green in the photograph. She was stunningly beautiful and there was something else, something about her, something lost but brave that touched Anthony deep down.

"What do we know about her?"

"Intel thinks she's Green's girlfriend."

"No" said Anthony, still looking at the girl, "no, that's wrong, she's not his girlfriend."

"Why do you say that?"

"Look, Green's on his mobile to his girlfriend. Look at his face, his expression, the tilt of his head, and you can lip-read that he's forming the word 'love'. This girl is close enough to hear all that, but she's not bothered. No, I think she's his assistant…or even his bodyguard. She's on alert, scanning all the time, ready to react."

M looked at Anthony in awe.

"Think about that Intel job, Anthony, because you are brilliant."

"Thank you, ma'am" Anthony smiled modestly. He hadn't said it out loud, but he also saw reluctance and extreme worry in the woman's demeanour. She didn't want to be there. She was being forced to work for Green, perhaps even blackmailed.

* * *

.

Within two hours Anthony was checking into The Langham Hotel, requesting a room on the floor below the penthouse suite "for the view" he said. He called in a few favours from staff he knew, greasing wheels with ready cash. Soon he'd discovered that Mr Green had been staying at the hotel for almost a month but had never stayed there before, that he took his meals in his own suite, that he had a staff of four…three men and a woman, that he left the hotel at eleven o'clock every morning returning at three o'clock in the afternoon. Most importantly for Anthony's plans, he found out that Mr Green has a fondness for the casino, in particular for playing poker.

Anthony worried that perhaps M had been mistaken in choosing him and not Bond for this mark. Anthony was dreadful at cards, preferring a good cryptic crossword. Nevertheless he formulated a plan that might…just might…make an advantage out of his poor gambling skills.

* * *

.

When Mr Green, accompanied by his 'girlfriend', came down to the hotel casino that evening he was told there was a new player at the tables. Green watched Anthony play for a little while then took a seat opposite him when it became vacant.

"May I join you, Mr…"

"Strallan. Anthony Strallan. By all means, Mr…"

"Green. I haven't seen you here before have I?"

"No, I've just arrived from Edinburgh, on business until the end of the week, and I thought I'd take advantage of not being smothered by Presbyterian disapproval for a bit. I'm not a practiced player, but I enjoy it for fun when I can. You?"

"Much the same" lied Green, the prospect of a bit of sport at Strallan's expense getting his blood up.

After an hour's play, Anthony had lost £12,000 of HM Secret Service's money, and for that price, he now understood the way Mr Green's mind worked as well as imparting to him a very false sense of security of the older man on business from Scotland as a harmless old duffer.

"You're a fine player, Mr Green, but I think it is most unfair of you to distract me with your beautiful wife. A man can hardly be expected to be able to concentrate with her around."

The woman standing behind Green looked directly into Anthony's eyes for the first time and his heart stopped. She really was the most extraordinarily lovely woman: curly coppery hair, infinitely deep brown eyes, creamy complexion, glamour-model figure. But what really thumped Anthony in the chest was her expression: like a hunted wild animal desperate for safety but with no real hope of finding it. Even in the face of that fear, she was brave, determined to do what she had to do. She looked like a woman who had lost her soul, and Anthony just as desperately wanted to save her, protect her.

"My wife? Oh my, um, girlfriend, yes. Edith dear, come and say 'hello' to Mr Strallan."

"Hello" she said simply, holding his eyes, searching for some things and trying to hide others.

"Enchanté" Anthony replied. _The mission – keep focussed old man!_

"Another game tomorrow night, Mr Green?"

"If you can afford to lose like that, then yes certainly, Mr Strallan, by all means, you can be my new best friend!"

Anthony took a stool at the bar, watching Edith in the mirror behind the spirit bottles. When she was dismissed by Green, she moved to the windows looking out over BBC Broadcasting House one way, and down Regent Street the other.

Anthony appeared by her side with two glasses.

"Peach Bellini?" he offered holding out a cocktail.

"Thank you." Edith took the glass Anthony _wasn't_ holding out to her.

"Actually, it was a double bluff and _that's_ the drugged one." Anthony wore an ironic smile. Edith's mouthed twitched and she almost laughed.

"I'll take that risk, just this once."

"Do you enjoy the bustle of London?"

"Not entirely. I'm really a country girl."

"I'm a Yorkshireman myself."

"You don't sound like it." Edith was just hinting at relaxing.

"I was sent away to school, you know. But I was born and bred near Thirsk."

"I know it well" Edith sighed.

"You miss it."

"Yes. I never thought I would, but I do, now more than ever."

"Why don't you return?"

"I…I can't." Edith sipped from the glass, indicating a 'No Entry' sign over that topic.

Anthony wanted nothing more than to talk to her all night, but he thought it best not to push his luck. He finished his drink.

"Mr Green is a very, very lucky man. I hope he makes you happy."

Edith looked at Anthony and for a moment he thought she might open up to him, but she caught sight of Green at the gambling tables and her eyes clouded again.

"You're too kind. Thank you for the drink. It was lovely." With a smile…a real smile that melted Anthony's heart…she returned to her post behind her tormentor.

* * *

.

Anthony waited to see which lift Mr Green took to return to his suite and then he retired himself.

At three in the morning, he used one of Q's clever gadgets to find the correct code to access the penthouse via the service lift. He was wearing overalls and an absurd false moustache, and carrying a large spanner. _Spanners are great things_ he thought to himself as he travelled up in the elevator _a disguise and a weapon as well as a useful tool_.

There was no one around the suite which he reconnaissanced quickly but thoroughly identifying Green's bedroom by the guards outside, and guessing that the smaller room immediately next to it was Edith's. That was all he needed for tonight. He returned to his room and tried to get some rest, but Edith's pleading eyes haunted his dreams.

* * *

.

Mr Green left the hotel at eleven o'clock the next morning, just as Anthony had been told he would. His limousine was followed, at a discreet distance, by a motorcycle courier dressed in black leathers indistinguishable from hundreds of similar riders on the streets of London. Car and bike made their way down Regent Street to Piccadilly Circus, then to Trafalgar Square. They turned down Whitehall, took a right at the Foreign Office building and into Queen Anne's Gate, where the car turned a corner and disappeared into a large double garage. Anthony rode on for a couple of streets to prevent anyone thinking that he had been following and then returned. Without removing his helmet he knocked at the garage door holding a parcel brought for the purpose. There was no answer.

Anthony looked around, considering his next move. There were two CCTV cameras, one either side of the door. Anthony stepped to one side, drew out a wireless gadget (another of Q's inventions), let it run for a few minutes, then pointed it at the cameras. The gadget hacked into the CCTV system and forced it to play a recording of the clear, safe view the cameras had just picked up on a loop. With no one able to see him on the monitors, Anthony used the PIN hacking gadget again to get into the garage. Anthony was expecting some guards and was prepared for a gun battle once the door opened, but the garage was empty: no people and no car.

"Blast" Anthony muttered under his breath. Then he looked closer and noticed the almost imperceptible line in the floor to one side of him. He tapped on the concrete in a few places listening to the quality of the sound. The garage, it seemed, housed a secret lift.

* * *

.

Just before three in the afternoon the garage door opened and the limo containing Green and his entourage re-emerged. The car sped off and the door began to close automatically. Anthony slipped underneath it before it shut completely. The small PIN hacking device couldn't crack the secret lift's controls; Anthony used the wireless gadget and an iPad to hack in manually, and the lift lowered him into the bowels of the earth just south of St. James's Park.

By his flashlight Anthony could see a cavernous space housing a monolithic structure made up of many steel boxes wired together. Anthony examined a few and realised with a shock that this _was_ the bomb: an enormous amount of different kinds of explosives, TNT, Semtex, and others all linked to a radio-controlled detonator. That amount of explosives would cause enormous devastation. But Queen Anne's Gate was hardly a high-security target. _This bomb_, however, was so huge it didn't have to be close to its intended objective to destroy it, and it was exactly mid-way between the Houses of Parliament and Buckingham Palace!

Working fast, Anthony isolated the detonating system, detached it from the explosives and reprogrammed it, including a set of computer viruses that would make it irreparable. Then he reaffixed the detonator to look as it had done before, except that the bomb was now harmless…that was unless the detonator was found to be faulty and a new one were to be fitted. Preventing that from happening would be tonight's task. On the way back to the hotel, he telephoned HQ and had a bomb disposal squad put on standby for when he knew Green was out of the way, and it would be safe for them to dismantle it completely.

* * *

.

Anthony was £8,000 down, but looking about as worried as he might do if he had lost £10 on the Grand National. Mr Green was even more intrigued than he had been the previous night, and Edith looked worried for Anthony's sake. She tempered her worry with the thought that Anthony must be very rich…or have a plan…or both. She watched him far more than she watched Mr Green.

"Do you really enjoy being fleeced like this, Mr Strallan?" asked Mr Green looking happily at his hand.

"I don't enjoy losing for its own sake, no. I'm not a masochist. But there's a thrill to gambling at this level, and I'm learning from your mastery of the game, Mr Green."

"An expensive lesson. To indulge such a pastime you must have extensive private means or significant business interests." Green was angling for information not realising that Anthony had been waiting patiently for this moment all evening.

"I have a reasonably successful business I suppose. It's terribly boring though. What business are you in?"

"Me? I'm in abattoirs." It was Mr Green's stock answer and it usually prevented any further curiosity.

_Yes, indeed you are_ thought Anthony, remembering the bomb in its bunker.

"What's your boring success, Mr Strallan?"

"If you really want to know, I own a business that has monopolised a small part of the UK defence systems market: electronics and robotics, artificial intelligence rather than munitions. Not as big as BAE, but far more specialised with smaller overheads and bigger returns. Boring, as I said."

"Not at all." Mr Green had stopped playing to listen to Anthony. "It sounds just the sort of thing I'm interested in. There's no future in what I'm doing now. It's…er…all about to blow up. I need to diversify and find a new challenge."

"Well, you may be in luck. I'm actually in London looking for a new backer to provide capital. My meeting today…um, fell through" Anthony said thinking of the secret lift.

Mr Green folded ending the game.

"Come up to my suite later. We'll talk."

He took Edith's arm to lead her out of Anthony's hearing.

"Talk to him. Get everything out of him you can, then bring him up."

* * *

.

Anthony was sat at an alcove table with Edith, about fifteen minutes later, each sipping a cocktail: she had another Peach Bellini, he'd opted for a Champagne Rossini.

"You like sweet cocktails, don't you? That's quite unusual in a man."

"It's not illegal to have a sweet tooth." His face suddenly dropped every shred of his mask of sophistication and became animated.

"Have you tried the Apple Charlotte Royale here? Oh, it's complete bliss!"

Edith giggled to see this side of him. She'd obeyed Green and talked to Anthony, but had made little effort to pump him for information. Green could force her to do some things but she drew the line at involving this charming, sweet gentleman with the kind, intelligent eyes and handsome, crooked smile in Green's sordid, horrific schemes. How she longed to tell Anthony…to warn him. But might it jeopardise her? She decided she didn't care. Anthony must not be caught up in the carnage Green was about to unleash.

"Anthony, will you be here in London on Friday?"

"Yes, I think I will." He kept his voice light, though he recognised the change in her.

"Please, promise me you will leave London on Thursday night. Don't be anywhere near London at any time on Friday. Please?"

Anthony wasn't going to play games with her, not after she had reached out to him and at such a risk to herself. He lowered his voice and leaned to her.

"If I have anything to do with it, no one will be hurt on Friday. No one except perhaps Mr Green himself."

Edith looked at those incredibly blue eyes full of meaning with such relief and gratitude, but it was followed swiftly by a new panic and fear.

"But if…if his plans don't go ahead, he says he will…"

"What? How is he blackmailing you? Yes, I know he is. What is frightening you so much?"

"He says he has planted bombs around my family home. My family don't even know they are being held to ransom. If I step out of line, he says he will…" She kept the tears at bay, but her voice cracked.

"Where is this home?" Anthony tried to reassure her.

"Downton Abbey, in Yorkshire; the seat of the Earl of Grantham. I'm his daughter."

"I suspected as much, but I did not wish to presume, Lady Edith."

"How?"

"I'm a Yorkshireman, remember? Look, I'm going to visit the gents. When I get back, a branch of the Bomb Disposal Squad will be on their way to Downton, and you can take me up to face Mr Green in his lair."

"But…" Edith was almost in hysterics at all the things that could go wrong.

"Trust me. Please?" Anthony put his arm on hers, and for Edith the world was put back on its proper axis once more after days and days of the universe being out of kilter. She finally had an ally, and such an ally! He made her feel as though everything was going to be alright again.

"With all my heart."

Her words shot through him, and it was his turn to be stunned. He recovered himself, walked over to the cloakroom, sent a coded text to HQ which was acknowledged immediately, and joined Edith again at the lift to the penthouse suite.

"They're on their way. Within the hour, your family and everyone within Downton Abbey will be safe."

"Thank you. I don't know how to thank you enough!"

For the first time in his career, Anthony had a fleeting understanding of 007 and the activities he was reputed to get up to.

"I'm sure I can suggest a few ways later, my dear." He raised what he hoped would be interpreted as a suave eyebrow and was rewarded with a deep blush on Edith's gorgeous cheeks. _Oh yes_, he thought, _Now I know what I'm fighting for_.

The lift reached the penthouse suite and Edith led Anthony through to an impressive sitting room, with three 'waiters' standing around at attention, and Mr Green lazing languidly on a sofa.

"I've been expecting you, Mr Strallan! I hope you haven't been seducing my girlfriend?"

"Alas, no such luck, Mr Green. She is remarkably loyal to you, despite all my attempts!" Anthony laughed to continue the banter and set Green at ease. Green indicated a seat to Anthony displaying no hint of suspicion.

"Now, to business. How much are you looking for?"

"Around £60million." Anthony was making all this up as he went along and hoped to God he was going to be able to keep up the pretence just long enough.

"That seems quite a lot for a small company."

"But what we do is…how shall I put it…sensitive work. The British government are not all that supportive."

"You mean it's illegal" said Mr Green.

"If you want to talk plainly, I can do that too. As I mentioned to your charming girlfriend, I'm a Yorkshireman. I can call a spade a spade."

"I don't care if it's illegal, as long as it makes money" continued Green.

"I am confident that the returns will be…significant" lured Anthony.

"Exactly how significant?"

"Around 200%." Anthony took a drink from Edith, trying not to catch her eye. Instead he caught sight of her cleavage which raised his blood pressure stratospherically…and the silenced pistol hidden there. Then he looked up at her and she winked, before turning to serve Green his own whisky.

"That is certainly significant, but how are such profits to be realised?" Green was asking.

"It's simple really. The artificial intelligence programs I have developed can be implanted into any robots currently in existence no matter what their operating systems are. It makes them into simple but effective guards, soldiers, bodyguards, whatever…and they are expendable. What I offer is unique in the world, and every shifty government, dictator, petty criminal, or power-mad fool with enough money wants it. I can charge what I like. But once the program begins selling, there are only a limited number of ways I can keep the intellectual property mine. Hence there will only be one chance, one window for a sale. This is why I need the backing now, and quickly. Is that plain enough for you, Mr Green?"

Anthony was quite pleased with that little story. He took a long draught of his drink, watching Green thinking the proposal over.

"That is quite something."

Anthony wondered if he was actually going to stump up £60million there and then. M _would _be pleased. It would more than cover his gambling debts.

"Did you make that up just now, or have you had it up your sleeve since yesterday?"

"I'm sorry?" Anthony knew the game was up, and played for time. He looked around and noted where Edith was standing by the mini-bar.

"You are no businessman, Mr Strallan, _or should I say 005_? Yes, my colleague Mr Red warned me while you were downstairs. It appears 007 has got in a bit of a pickle."

Despite himself, Anthony sighed at the younger man's antics.

"And although I do enjoy taking money off you, I'm afraid I can't let you roam around free to spoil my part of Rainbow Vengeance's work tomorrow…" he looked at his watch, "…yes, it is tomorrow now, just." He turned to the three male guards. "Kill him."

A split second was all it took for Anthony to dive and roll behind the sofa, draw the pistol from his shoulder holster and take out the stooges before they could even let off a single shot.

Mr Green, like villains the world over, was a coward. He leapt behind a column and shouted at Edith. "_Kill him, for God's sake, kill him! Or your family will be blasted sky high!_"

Anthony stood up and turned…to find Edith pointing her gun levelly at his heart. He could put a bullet in that beautiful young girl, take out Green, and save London from a terrible fate…or…

He could see the agony in her face. She was wondering if Downton really was safe, if there was any way she could spare Anthony, but she had to be sure.

And Anthony decided he had to be sure too.

He dropped his weapon.

"I can't do this."

Green peeked out from his hiding place.

"What?" whispered Edith.

"I can't do it. I am a…what did 007 call me?...a dinosaur with pre-War manners and a Victorian code of honour. I can't hurt you, Edith. I can't do violence to someone as young and as lovely as you. You'll just have to do what you feel you have to do."

Edith continued gazing into his eyes, admiring the man's courage, and falling ever more in love with him. Green ran out, manic and possessed.

"_Kill him, or by God I'll screw your entire family over like I did you and that bitch of a maid and then I'll…_"

Edith fired her gun with a deadly aim.

Green hit the floor with a slug in his chest.

"That's for Anna" she said quietly, before shooting Green again in the head.

"And that's for me."

Anthony slowly reached out and brought her hand, still clutching the pistol, down until she let go of it, then he gently took her in his arms. Edith, in shock though she was, eventually embraced him and began to cry. He let her cry it all out, holding her and rubbing her back comfortingly.

"Downton?" she gasped between sobs.

"Is safe. Would you like to see for yourself?"

"There won't be any trains at this time of the morning, and driving will take hours."

"Come, my sweet. This is my last mission you know, so I may as well have some fun." With a new-found determination, he ordered up a helicopter from HQ, at the same time as sending the Bomb Disposal Squad to Queen Anne's Gate.

"The chopper will pick us up from Regent's Park in fifteen minutes. Might I suggest you dress for warmth and comfort, my lady?"

He picked up Edith's gun and wiped it thoroughly, then held it in his own hand.

"Your fingerprints…" she said.

"I'm the one with the licence to kill, my dear."

* * *

.

The flight north to Downton took just over an hour. It gave Edith time to tell Anthony how Green had shown up one day at Downton while the rest of the family were attending a dinner elsewhere. His cronies had planted bombs all around the house, while Green assaulted both her and her maid, scaring them both witless and threatening her maid's husband if she so much as mentioned anything about Green and his visit. Edith was then taken away with them because Green needed an expert at codes and electronic machinery to get the remote detonators working, and Edith had just graduated with a First Class Honours in Electronic Cryptography. In fact, she was just about to take up a job at GCHQ.

"In Cheltenham?" gasped Anthony.

"Yes, why?"

"No reason." _Perhaps_…

* * *

.

When they reached Downton, they set down away from the house, and Anthony thanked the pilot.

"You'll find the residents are at the Dower House, sir, until the BDS have completed their sweep."

"Thank you, Greaves, I'm most grateful. Don't wait for us."

Edith was watching the activity around her childhood home: there were dozens of officers, military vehicles, equipment, and sniffer dogs all purposefully going about their task. It was like a stage set.

"It's still standing, my sweet one."

"Thanks to you."

"Shall we join them at the Dower House?"

"You realise that my family are worse than the entire Rainbow Vengeance put together?"

Anthony laughed.

* * *

.

Anthony wasn't laughing any longer.

The Dowager, once she'd ascertained that he was responsible for all the fuss, had launched into him about how this was all highly irregular, that it wouldn't have been tolerated in her husband's time, and that she was going to have a word with the Home Secretary about it, and he would sort them all out and court martial them, because she had known him ever since he asked her out when she was twenty-one.

Anthony briefly worried what M would think of that, before he realised that the Home Secretary the Dowager was talking about had retired about twenty years earlier.

The Earl had been if anything even more belligerent, addressing himself to anyone in uniform. Despite the efforts of his Countess to calm him down, and to convince him that the army should be thanked for their efforts in saving Downton and their lives, the reality of the situation had still not penetrated into his consciousness.

"I'm outraged! I think it's disgraceful that you think you can just march into my house and order people about on the flimsiest of evidence, thinking that someone has planted bombs. The very idea is laughable! Carson would never allow such a thing."

Anthony thought it was about time he made contact with Robert.

"Lord Grantham, I don't suppose you remember me? Sir Anthony Strallan of Locksley."

"Good God! What are you doing here?"

Anthony was about to explain, but Robert pressed on with introductions.

"My wife, Cora. Anthony and I go a long way back. What happened to you after Cambridge, old chap? Don't suppose you made much of yourself. You couldn't hit a ball at Harrow! And this is my daughter Edith."

"Yes, we've met." Robert didn't hear Anthony's words, because he had started to harangue some poor sergeant.

Anthony circled Edith's shoulders with his arm to soothe her, but the tears flowed anyway.

"They didn't even notice. Green's had me as his slave and Downton's been held to ransom for almost a week, and they didn't even know I was missing."

There was a very loud explosion.

Everyone rushed for the door at the same time to see what was happening, but the squaddies only allowed Anthony, Edith, Robert, and Cora out. To their relief, Downton was still intact. Another bang ripped through the night.

An officer walked up to the little group and saluted.

"We've completed the sweep, sir. We found eight devices, which we are just making safe with controlled explosions now. Then everyone can return to the house."

"About time" shouted Robert.

"Actually, I was addressing the Colonel, my lord" the officer replied without missing a beat.

"Colonel?" Robert's disbelief was palpable.

"Colonel Strallan?" Edith's voice was much more admiring.

"Yes, at least for a few hours more. Once I get back to HQ, they are giving me my papers."

"I think you deserve to be given a medal and a peerage for what you've done." Edith edged closer to him.

"I can think of other rewards I would prefer." Had he gone too far? Edith obviously didn't think so, because she reached around his waist and pulled herself closer to him, his lips meeting her forehead of their own accord in a delightful kiss.

"Good God! Unhand her, sir!" Robert started, but Anthony lost patience with him. He drew his pistol, fired it to hit the ground at a point directly between Robert's feet, and then holstered it once more, all without removing his mouth from Edith's forehead. It certainly seemed to disprove Robert's analysis of Anthony's prowess at sports, and shut him up.

Anthony pulled away, looked at Edith for a moment, and then turned to Robert.

"If you'll excuse me, Lord Grantham, Lady Edith and I have things to discuss."

Cora took Robert by the arm and led him away, asking him if he didn't think it was a good idea to offer the troops something to drink after all their hard work. She glanced at Anthony and Edith, smiling, and nodded.

"I like your mother" said Anthony.

"She gets distracted trying to keep the rest of the Crawley gang in order, but, yes, her heart's in the right place."

"Are you alright? I'm sure you must have been missed, at the very least at mealtimes. Perhaps…"

"Don't make excuses for them, Anthony. They probably did think that I must have told someone else where I'd gone and didn't bother to make sure. The point is I was in mortal danger, as were they, and if it hadn't been for you, Colonel…"

"I was very glad to be of service" Anthony smiled.

"You mentioned you might accept a few rewards?" Edith teased, her voice laden with desire.

"As my lady wishes" Anthony replied, gathering her up in his arms and kissing her with a passion he had only just begun to experience, but which he wanted to last the rest of his life. He moved from her lips to her eyes and her neck and back to her mouth with breathless want tempered with reverence, unable to believe that he'd stumbled on such happiness.

His mobile rang. He ignored it for a bit, but Edith pulled away.

"Shouldn't you answer that?"

"Oh, alright" Anthony mugged.

"005. M, any news from Queen Anne's Gate? Good. Really? Well, I don't know. Yes, right. Thank you M." He rang off, and looked at his feet for a moment.

"Good news?" asked Edith nervously.

"I don't know. All the other agents have been successful as well…even 007! So that's good. And the Minister who demanded I be retired…well, it transpires he lives in Queen Anne's Gate. He's feeling a bit contrite and I can continue in my job, if I want to."

"That's great news, isn't it?"

"Edith, I know we haven't really spoken about this, but I'm not like some agents I could mention. I don't just take young ladies at the end of missions as part of the spoils. I kissed you because…over the last few days…I've fallen in love with you. I do not dare presume that you might like to continue our…friendship, but if you do, would you prefer to have me as Colonel Strallan, MI6 agent, and in mortal danger every hour of every working day, or would you prefer to have Sir Anthony Strallan, Intelligence Officer working behind a desk in Cheltenham? Perhaps we might…see each other a bit at GCHQ?"

"You are giving me the decision?" Edith asked.

"Yes."

"You'd do that for me?"

"Yes."

"Oh darling! I do love you!" She launched herself into his arms for another giddy kiss.

"Cheltenham? Please?" she murmured into his neck. "I don't think I could bear the worry thinking of you in danger."

"You're certain you'd prefer a desk-bound old codger rather than a dashing spy?"

"As long as you're _my_ desk-bound old codger, yes, definitely."

As he kissed her, his Edith, Anthony listened to the controlled explosions going on behind him and thought _This was the most successful mission of my career. Best to go out on a high_.


End file.
